


Bared

by LostLoveLetters



Category: Walk on Water (Manhwa)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:28:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25369885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostLoveLetters/pseuds/LostLoveLetters
Summary: Ed has a flashback in bed one day because memories surface unexpectedly and feelings even more so.Or in which Ed and McQueen have an important conversation and Ed is loved.
Relationships: Glenn McQueen | Cleed Schreiber / Ed Talbot | Park Yeowoon, Glenn McQueen/Ed Talbot
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	Bared

**Author's Note:**

> Just another headcanon that won't leave me. Enjoy! (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ

Ed is not sure why it happens because it has been weeks since that . . . incident. Two months even. Furthermore, ever since he got back together with McQueen officially, they . . . well, they have had sex several times already, and nothing like this has ever happened.

But, one moment Ed is lying down moaning, back arching against the bedsheets and sparks of pleasure fizzling through his nerves as warm lips brush teasingly across his skin and deft fingers rub over a sensitive nipple and the next moment, a solid, warm hand slides up his chest and rests on the side of his neck, thumb splayed over his Adam’s apple. Ed’s eyes immediately snap open in alarm. 

Dimly, at the back of his mind, he knows that McQueen’s fingers are lax and gentle, not even gripping hard, that McQueen probably just wanted to pull up for a kiss, but all he registers are the fingertips on his throat. Suddenly, somehow, the touch does not feel so light anymore. It feels heavy. Unyielding. Like an iron band circling his throat.

Like cold fingers tightening around his neck, fingernails digging into his skin, pressing hard, squeezing, choking him, and he cannot breathe, he cannot move, he cannot –

Ed gasps and lurches away. No.

“Yeowoon?” McQueen asks, surprised, reeling back at Ed’s abrupt movement.

Ed opens his mouth to answer, to explain but no words come out. Instead, his heartbeat skitters under his skin and thunders loudly in his ears. The memories of that terrible night flash through his mind, unbidden.

Teeth biting harshly into his flesh. Jagged shards of glass scattered on the floor. Cruel hands holding him down, merciless and desperate. That angry, wild eyed gaze raking over him, stripping him barer and more vulnerable than hands ever could. The helplessness and despair that seized him in a vice-like grip like another pair of ice cold hands.

Ed’s breath stutters. An odd sensation writhes through him. It feels like butterflies fluttering in his stomach, except it’s worse, sharper, more vicious, like bees buzzing angrily under his skin or electricity jolting through to the tips of his fingers. His heartbeat drums even louder in his ears.

Oh. This is weird. What – what is happening?

“What’s wrong?” he hears McQueen ask, voice sharp with concern. Out of the corner of his eye, Ed sees a hand reaching out towards him, but with his mind still swarming with images and the phantom unforgiving grip still lingering on his skin, he immediately flinches without thinking.

The hand freezes mid-air. Ed watches the hand drop down slowly and registers the mattress bouncing up ever so slightly as a weight lifts up. He turns his head to see McQueen getting off the bed to come stand at the side of the bed instead.

“Yeowoon,” McQueen says gently. “Can you look at me?”

Ed automatically turns towards him and pauses. He takes in the deep furrow between McQueen’s eyebrows and the warm hazel eyes gazing at him in worry.

McQueen. He is with McQueen. The knowledge settles soothingly over him, and the sudden twitchy sensation from earlier starts to ease off. Ed focuses on McQueen standing in front of him, unconsciously relaxing. He wrenches his mind away from the memories and wills them away.

McQueen notices because he asks carefully, voice tinged with relief, “Are you calming down?”

Ed nods.

“Good. Just keep taking deep breaths, Yeowoon.”

Deep breaths?

Ed blinks, confused. He opens his mouth to ask but lets out a shaky breath instead. It is only then that he realizes that his chest is still heaving. Oh. He pauses and slowly inhales, lets the breath settle in his chest for a minute, and then exhales. He presses his hand over his chest, feeling the startling thud of his heart through his fingers as he repeats the motions.

He glances back at McQueen watching him closely, expression wary and still worried. Ed’s eyes slide down to McQueen’s fingers twitching at his side like he wants to reach out but is too afraid to.

Ah.

Belated realization dawns on him. McQueen saw. He saw him getting visibly shaken and by a – by a _hand_ no less. He will have questions. He will _know_.

Ed frowns in dismay. He . . . He does not want McQueen to know.

“Yeowoon? What’s wrong?” McQueen asks, unfortunately noticing his distress. He frowns and continues, voice stark with concern, “Talk to me.”

He bites his lips, reluctance running hard through him. He does not want to talk. He would much rather pretend this entire incident never happened.

But. . . McQueen’s deepening frown and restless fingers drumming against his thigh stirs Ed’s conscience enough that he shuffles to the edge of the bed towards McQueen. Hoping that this appeases him instead, Ed reaches out to soothe those twitching fingers and drops his forehead against McQueen’s stomach. McQueen lets out a sound of surprise above him, fingers immediately stilling under Ed’s grip.

Ed swallows and asks quietly, “Can . . . we stay like this? Just for a minute?”

Immediately, he feels the weight of McQueen’s gaze on him. Ed does not look up because the concern in McQueen’s eyes sends guilt prickling through him. There is a beat of silence where McQueen wavers until he finally gives in and promises, “As long as you want.”

Warm, solid arms wrap around him, cautiously as if McQueen is still perturbed over Ed’s earlier reaction. Ed frowns. That is unnecessary. He doesn’t have to be so wary. So, Ed presses closer and pointedly leans into the touch. Reassured, McQueen embraces him more firmly and suggests, “To bed?”

Ed nods and scoots over, lying back down. McQueen follows in after him and easily tugs him back into his embrace. Ed sighs and turns on his side to press his cheek against McQueen’s chest. The sound of McQueen’s heartbeat thumps slow and constant in his ear, bare warm skin pressed against his. He finds it comforting and relaxes further into the familiar warmth.

McQueen lets out a hum and splays a broad, warm hand against his bare back. Gentle fingers stroke over his skin, rubbing lazy circles over and over and over again. Ed closes his eyes and soaks in the lingering trails of heat McQueen leaves across his back.

True to his word, McQueen holds Ed without protest, letting the delicate, tender moment continue until the warmth seeps into Ed and steadily pushes away any lingering trace of his unease and trepidation from before.

Lulled by the rhythmic motions of McQueen’s fingers, Ed is nearly dozing off, eyelids heavier and heavier, when McQueen finally voices, “Do you –” He stops abruptly and then continues, “Does that happen often?”

Ed blinks, awake and aware now. McQueen’s fingertips do not stop moving though, still stroking over his skin in gentle circles. Ed pauses – It’s ok to answer this question, he thinks - and admits, “No. . . Today was the first time.”

McQueen falls silent, clearly considering Ed’s answer. Ed waits for him to gather his thoughts, a bit anxious for McQueen’s next words. After a moment, McQueen asks carefully, “Was it something I did?”

Ed blinks. _Was it something I did?_ The question rattles in his head. Ed frowns because it is both a yes and a no. It is because McQueen’s fingers touched his throat that he had a flashback, but the flashback, the reason for feeling so shaken by a hand on his throat in the first place, is all because of Chang. He bites his lips. How should he phrase that though?

He does not know the right way to say it. And more than that, he hates that he associated something McQueen did with something that Chang did.

McQueen unfortunately takes Ed’s silence as confirmation because he says a little helplessly, “Yeowoon. If something makes you uncomfortable, you should tell me.” He continues, voice serious and sincere, “I’ll make sure I won’t do it again.”

“It wasn’t because of you. It wasn’t,” Ed automatically reassures, voice firm, because it is not McQueen’s fault, not really. McQueen did not do anything wrong. He should know that. Ed hesitates, struggling to find the words to express himself. He says haltingly, “I - I just don’t like hands on my throat, I guess.”

“On your throat,” McQueen repeats. Ed immediately feels McQueen’s fingers stop. Oh, no. Dread slithers through him. Ed bites his lips, already regretting his answer.

“Why is that?” McQueen asks sharply.

Ed shakes his head numbly. He does not look up. There is no good way to explain this.

McQueen makes an unhappy noise and tries to soften his tone, “Yeowoon, did something happen? Talk to me. Please.”

Restlessness twitches through him. Nervous, Ed tries to shrug. “I don’t know. I . . . I just don’t like people touching my throat. That’s all. It’s just . . . a weird habit,” he finishes lamely.

Unconvinced, McQueen presses, “Did someone hurt you?”

Ed freezes. He swallows and quickly recomposes himself, but it’s too late. Pressed together like this, he knows McQueen noticed his telling pause. Even so, he persists and says, heartbeat pounding hard, “No. No one did.”

Silence settles heavily over the bedroom. Apprehension slices sharply through Ed. Ed waits, holding his breath.

McQueen exhales hard and says reluctantly, “Alright. I. . . I won’t push you if you don’t want to talk about it. But,” he pauses and reaches out to tilt Ed’s face up. Ed’s breath catches at the earnestness in McQueen’s amber gaze. McQueen continues firmly, “If you change your mind, I’ll listen. If something is bothering you, you don’t have to face it alone anymore.”

Ed swallows and nods wordlessly. McQueen watches him closely for another moment before he presses a chaste kiss on Ed’s forehead. Ed blinks in surprise.

McQueen’s lips quirk up in a smile. “I love you, you know.”

The heartfelt words, no matter how many times McQueen utters them, sends a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through Ed. Ed swallows again, a lump rising in his throat. Ah.

McQueen settles back. His fingers resume drawing slow circles on Ed’s back.

Ed tries to relax again but the words reverberate inside him. The lump in his throat grows bigger. Is it bad that he keeps this to himself? Would McQueen be hurt if Ed does not tell him? Or would McQueen be hurt if he does?

_You don’t have to face it alone anymore. I love you, you know._

Trust and communication is a two way street, isn’t it? And he promised himself, didn’t he? That their second chance at loving each other wouldn’t be taken for granted, that this time around, they would be brave enough to confront each other in their entirety?

Ed takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He turns back on his side, eyes trailing over the smooth expanse of toned muscle and sun-kissed skin. Before he can think better of it, Ed starts slowly, “That night when . . . when you came to see me since our break-up. Do you . . . remember?”

McQueen’s fingers stumble as they graze over his shoulder blade. He answers unsurely, “Yes?”

Ed fights the urge to fidget as he feels the weight of McQueen’s curious stare. He really should be having this conversation face to face but his bravery only reaches so far. Not daring to look up, he continues, “I said that Chang bought me for money.”

Ed feels McQueen immediately tensing under him because even now, he still finds Chang to be a sore subject. McQueen recovers quickly though, fingers resuming their strokes, though a bit agitatedly now. “Yes, but what does this – ”

“- I lied,” Ed interrupts. McQueen abruptly falls silent, fingers stilling once more. Ed takes a deep breath and confesses, “I – I was there to be an escort, but it was for someone else, a client. I – Chang just happened to be there, and he saw us. He scared the other guy off, and . . . and then it was just us in a hotel room. We argued. He knew that I did porn and I . . . I provoked him. Called his bluff.” Ed pauses as the memories loom once more at the forefront of his thoughts like a dark, menacing shadow. He mentally shoves them back and continues, voice rueful, “I. . . I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t realize that he – ” Ed stops and shakes his head. “We fought. And . . . And . . .”

His voice trails off, throat suddenly dry. He does not know how to say the next part. Maybe this was a bad idea. He should not have said anything in the first place. He –

Ed blinks as McQueen hugs him closer, fingers rubbing gently once more over his back in silent encouragement. Right. He takes another deep breath and finishes quietly, “He forced himself on me.”

The confession lingers in the still air, terrible and true. Ed blinks, feeling disoriented from having his own truth finally leave his tongue and reach someone else’s ear. 

A loud shaky exhale disrupts the heavy silence. It takes a moment for Ed to realize that it did not come from him. He blinks and hears McQueen murmur, tone pained, “Your hand. That’s how you hurt your hand, isn’t it?”

Ed nods wordlessly. McQueen lets out a short, guttural sound. Startled, Ed finally looks up, eyes widening at the fierce scowl tugging down McQueen’s lips and hazel eyes burning nearly gold, incandescent with fury. “Cleed?”

“ _I’m going to kill that bastard_ ,” McQueen threatens, voice low and dark with promise, eyes glinting dangerously.

The expression makes Ed shiver even as he is touched by the protective anger that McQueen feels for him, because of him. He shakes his head and tries to placate him. “It’s alright now. I – “

“- I can’t believe he had the nerve to imply that he was the better choice for you, that he _liked_ you, wanted you even though he hurt you,” McQueen bites out, furious.

“Cleed –“

“He raped you,” McQueen continues angrily. Ed flinches at the word, at the aching reality that word brings. “And he still chased after you even after what he did. How does someone - ” McQueen pauses abruptly, eyes widening at whatever expression flits across Ed's face right now. It's probably not a good one because the anger immediately deflates out of McQueen. He takes an unsteady breath, runs a shaky hand through his hair, and then says chastised, looking away, “Sorry. It’s just _– I can’t_. I can’t control myself. When I think that someone hurt you like that, I - ”

His voice breaks off. Jaw clenching, McQueen glowers unseeingly at the wall, the dark expression returning to his eyes. Ed softens. He reaches up, hands cradling McQueen’s cheeks. McQueen immediately looks back towards him.

“I’m fine.” Before McQueen can protest, Ed continues, voice wry, “I am. I know . . . I know what happened earlier probably doesn’t help prove my point, but I am okay. I resolved things with Chang. There’s nothing to worry about, Cleed. Really. I. . . “ Ed pauses, searching for the desired words, and finally says, “I don’t think of him. I don’t want to. And you shouldn’t either. He is not worth it.”

McQueen frowns and looks searchingly at Ed, hand coming up to brush away a stray lock from Ed’s forehead. It takes another minute before he reluctantly nods. There is still a mulish set to his features though, and Ed privately notes that it is probably best if McQueen and Chang never cross paths with each other again.

McQueen sighs, thumb gently caressing Ed’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Ed blinks, bewildered. “For what?”

McQueen's arm tightens around his waist. He drops his forehead down against Ed's and says regretfully, “I’m sorry for a lot of things. I'm sorry that you went through that. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I’m sorry you had to face all of that alone.”

Ed shakes his head and whispers, “It’s ok.” At McQueen's unconvinced expression, Ed reaches out, arms encircling McQueen's neck. He strokes the back of McQueen's neck, mimicking the circular motions from before, and reassures him, “McQueen, you shouldn't blame yourself. I don't. A lot of it comes down to my bad decisions, and . . . even if they were pretty bad ones, they were still mine to make.”

Ed bites his lips, wishing he had the eloquence to express himself better. He hopes McQueen understands that, that at the end of the day, even if he did not have many options to choose from, he still had the power to choose. That power was still his. It's important to Ed, that realization of his own agency, because it's what made him finally stand up for himself.

McQueen returns the hug and murmurs, “I really don't deserve you.” Ed shakes his head and caresses McQueen's neck again in wordless protest.

McQueen sighs into the touch, his hand a warm comforting weight on Ed's back. They lie like this for a while, content to soak up the warmth and bask in their closeness. Ed presses his cheek back against McQueen's chest when McQueen asks suddenly, “Why didn’t you tell me before?” His voice is not accusatory though. Ed glances up, taking in McQueen’s open, curious gaze, before he looks away. He does not know how to answer this either. “I. . .”

McQueen pauses as Ed's voice trails off and asks, worry slipping into his tone, “Yeowoon?”

His fingers trail down Ed's arm and rubs gently over the underside of Ed's wrist.

Ed watches the fingers caress his skin as he grasps for words. Somehow, this too feels hard to say. “I didn’t want you to know,” he says finally. An echo of the unpleasant feeling returns, worming up from his stomach. He stiffens and admits, voice strained, “I . . . I didn’t want you to see me at my lowest. I didn’t want you to know how far I fell.”

Ed stops. He feels a bit scraped inside revealing that truth out in the open. He shifts uneasily, not liking how suddenly bared and exposed he feels.

McQueen notices because his fingers stroke over Ed's pulse point like he wants to smooth out Ed's erratic heartbeat and brush away Ed's discomfort. He says firmly, “I would never think less of you. Nothing would ever make you less of the person you are in my eyes.”

Ed stills as McQueen's words wash over him warmly, soothing an aching wound inside that he never knew he had. His eyes suddenly burn.

Oh.

Oblivious, McQueen continues adamantly, “You're the strongest person I know, and you'll always be beautiful to me.”

His words are devastatingly honest. They ring in Ed's ears and nestle somewhere deep in his ribcage, in his heart. He can feel something cracking apart inside of him, overwhelmed in the face of McQueen's unconcealed love for him.

Maybe he really wasn't okay after all. He never realized how much he needed to hear those words until he trembles with the overwhelming rush of warmth that they bring.

“Yeowoon?” McQueen questions, finally noticing the lack of response from Ed. He gently lifts up Ed's chin and immediately stares wide-eyed. He thumbs the skin under Ed's eye and asks, alarmed, “What's wrong? Why are you crying?”

Crying? Ed hurriedly swipes at his eyes and blinks down at the wet teardrops on his fingers. “Oh,” he realizes aloud. He swipes again at his eyes, but the tears continue to drip down his face. He can feel the beginning of a sob building at the back of his throat. He tries to swallow it down and says shakily, sitting up, “I – I – Sorry. I don't - don't know why either. I - It's just-”

His breath catches in his throat, tears slipping down his face harder. He raises his hands up to cover his eyes. Dimly, he hears the bedcovers rustle as McQueen sits up too. Familiar fingers reach out to gently pry Ed’s hands away.

Ed gazes at him through watering eyes and blurts out, voice trembling with tears, “I love you.”

McQueen's eyes widen even further. Expression the most panicked Ed has ever seen from him, McQueen answers helplessly, “I love you too.”

The sob finally wrenches free from Ed's throat, startling even Ed. McQueen makes a wounded sound and tugs Ed towards him, one hand guiding Ed's head towards the crook of his neck and the other hand rubbing firmly over Ed's back. Ed cannot help but cry harder at that. McQueen makes another unhappy sound and murmurs desperately, “Please don't cry. Yeowoon – I - It's alright, ok? Don't cry.”

Ed tries to get a hold of himself but as if McQueen's words from earlier had unlocked something inside him, there is nothing he can do to stop either the tears or the emotions coursing relentlessly through him. Tears continue to stream endlessly down his face, and Ed can feel McQueen's heart pounding through his skin.

McQueen makes another low sound and murmurs instead, “It's ok. You're ok. Just let it all out then. It's ok.”

He hugs Ed tight, hands stroking over his hair and back, all the while murmuring sweet nothings into Ed's ears. Ed clutches at McQueen, not knowing what else to do but to let the emotions shake out of him. He turns his face into McQueen's neck, still crying, and tries to focus instead on the warm fingerprints lingering on his skin and the low, comforting cadence of McQueen’s voice.

Ed does not know how long they sit like this but eventually, the tears stop and Ed's chest heaves occasionally with stuttered breaths, still feeling the aftermath of his crying. He relaxes further into McQueen's touch, feeling worn out now but also oddly lighter somehow, almost as if a weight that he did not realize he was carrying was lifted off his shoulders.

McQueen hums and asks quietly, “Better?”

Ed nods wordlessly. Heat creeps up his ears as embarrassment streaks through him. To think he cried so hard in front of McQueen. . .

McQueen gently tilts his head up to peer at him to make sure. Ed quickly covers his eyes. McQueen pauses and asks amused, “Why are you hiding?”

Ed shifts, cheeks reddening. He tries to explain, “I . . . My eyes are swollen.”

“I don't care,” McQueen insists. He pulls Ed's hands away and leans down to kiss him. Ed startles at the press of warm lips against his own but he quickly returns it, relaxing into the kiss. It's sweet and slow. McQueen kisses him once more, chastely, before he pulls away, lips quirking up into a smile. “I said you’re beautiful no matter what, didn't I?”

Ed shakes his head, embarrassment still running through him even as he feels pleased. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” McQueen chuckles, clearly enjoying Ed's reaction. He looks at Ed, hazel eyes warm and adoring, and adds, “I love you.”

Ed immediately softens, lips curving up into a smile, and he says equally sincerely, “I love you too.”

Maybe he _is_ okay, but he could be better. Maybe there are stages of being okay and he has not reached all of them.

At the very least, he is not alone.

Ed settles back into McQueen’s arms and lets the soft happiness curl in his chest.

Together like this, he will be more than okay, he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, please leave a kudos, a comment, or whatever you're comfortable with down below if you enjoyed reading!
> 
> I realized that Ed never actually talked to anyone about what happened, and well, what he went through is traumatic and you can't shake off trauma so easily. Also, I was always curious to see McQueen's reaction if Ed ever told him. It's probably an inevitable conversation between the two anyways, so thus this one-shot came about.(✿◠‿◠)
> 
> But also, I shamelessly just wanted to write a hurt/comfort scene between the two. v(=∩_∩=)ﾌ
> 
> I'm still not over these two, so probably . . . I'll be dropping more one-shots hahaha. Hope everyone is safe and well!


End file.
